>>> Item number 37017 from WRITERS LOG9409C --- (74 records) ----- <<<
Date: Fri, 16 Sep 1994 18:35:02 JST
Reply-To: WRITERS
Sender: WRITERS
From: Mike Barker
Subject: SUB: Something A Little More Meaty
(WARNING: ADULT MATERIAL! SERIOUSLY BAD! DO NOT READ WITHOUT BARF BUCKET!)
something a bit gristly from the news...
tink
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Something A Little More Meaty
Copyright 1994 Mike Barker
The dead man shuddered, then rolled off the black-skinned skeleton.
He grimaced at the rock walls around him and scratched at the root of
his aching erection.
"Hey, Room Service! How about one with more meat?"
The voice was silky, smooth with ages of tempting humans. The first
time he'd heard it, he'd looked around, trying to see where it was
coming from, hoping for a glimpse of the speaker. Now the dead man
didn't even look up when he heard it.
He'd figured out that it came from inside, somehow, anyway.
"You made them this way. Didn't you want them to be like this?"
The dead man sat up and let his head drop on his knees. He shook
his head as he answered.
"Now look. How many times do I have to tell you, it was just
business? Those boys thought they were getting a good deal--a few
weapons instead of farm tools, ammo instead of seed. Was I supposed to
do their thinking for them?"
The dead man thought he heard a spitting noise. But the voice was
surely used to this argument already, wasn't it?
"So how about it, Room Service? Something a little more meaty?"
When the voice finally answered, there was an edge to it that he
hadn't heard before. Still, the answer was the one he'd hoped for. It
hadn't taken him very long to realize that they could provide whatever
he asked for, even if they did make some mistakes like this last one.
He'd asked for a girl, and they made him agonizingly ready, then
dumped that skeleton in here. Skin and bones, but he'd been so hot he'd
gone ahead even when he realized it was dead. After all, he was dead,
why shouldn't he?
Hell, he'd even tried that a couple times when he was alive.
Usually with girls that had more meat on their bones, though. That's
why he was happy when the voice answered.
"More meaty? I suppose we might manage something. Of course, of
course, I know just how to do it."
There was a click as if someone snapped their fingers. The dead man
collapsed. It felt as if someone had cut every muscle in his body. He
couldn't move, although he could feel the floor pressing against his
face and still see out of one eye that had been open when he fell.
The floor had a strange smell. He thought about it, and it was like
those rotten eggs those boys had tried to give him. He'd thrown the
eggs out of his tent and kicked sand over them.
This floor smelled just like the hot sand and the rotten eggs did
that day.
He was still remembering that smell when the door opened, and he saw
them. A horde of pot-bellied little brats, skinny arms and legs, sores
and flies, stinking young kids just like he'd kicked away from the eggs
that day.
Their eyes brightened.
The voice seemed louder than usual.
"Go for it, children. Meat! Eat hearty."
He tried to scream.
Even though he couldn't make a sound, the voice seemed to notice him
again.
"Oh, yes. Mr. Salesman? In a few years, they'll be just right for
you. Something a little more meaty."
He felt small hands grabbing, pulling, tearing.
"Of course, you'll be a little bony then..."
The nibbling started then. His thigh. His arm. An eye. A
testicle.
And the voice laughed.
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